Friday, April 03, 2009

Coming through customs at Heathrow airport I watch, interested, as a party of five pensioners decant their pill boxes and medicine bottles into the security-provided polythene bags that others are filling with toothpaste and cosmetics. Each, by the time they are done, is carrying a full bag - their drugs are packaged uniformly in white and red, red white and blue. The English taking their necessities abroad.

Behind them shuffles a man, only slightly younger, his immaturity denoted by the chestnut colour of his hair. He is marsupial by appearence, small and friendly.

"Where are you off to", he asks one of the ladies, and claps his hands when she replies that their destination is Egypt. "Me too", he declares.

As we pick up our baggage at the other end of the machine, he spots my laptop and claps again, smiling.

"Got your laptop!", he cries. "Good, good. Never be without it. Not these days".

I smile and admit I am travelling for business purposes, so I have little choice.

He gives me the warmest smile I can recall, and tells me to enjoy myself regardless.

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